The story begins at the Loud House.
Inside the hustle and bustle of the Loud household, Lucy and Lisa are settled on the couch, munching on frozen dinners while Charles tugs at Lily's diaper, trying to reclaim his prized bone. The living room? A total disaster! Lincoln's tucked away in the dining room, focusing on something that might just save the day. Suddenly, in bursts Lola, her princess car whirring with energy. With a dramatic flair, she sends Lily and Charles flying and snatches Lisa's dinner fork, complete with a chunk of Salisbury steak.
"SALISBURY STEAK STEALER!" Lisa hollers, her eyes wide in disbelief.
From the kitchen, Rita calls out to Lincoln, "Hey honey, dinner's ready!"
Lincoln grins at her, "Thanks, Mom!"
Rita saunters over and spots Lincoln's volcano project in progress, "Need any help with that? I see you're making a volcano!"
Lincoln shakes his head vigorously, "Nah, I got it, Mom. Almost done!"
Just then, Leni skips in, her makeup antics a bit... unconventional, "Mom! We were supposed to practice makeup together!"
"Sure thing, sweetie." Rita replies, ushering Leni upstairs. But she turns back to Lincoln, "I'll be back in just a few minutes!"
Lynn and Lynn Sr. stroll through, but Lynn Sr. stops when he notices Lincoln's project, "Hey, buddy, need a hand with that volcano? Just give me five minutes while I help Lynn practice baseball."
Lynn Sr. throws a baseball, which bounces off a fragile knick-knack and sends Cliff, the family pet, darting for cover, "And there's your first pointer, Lynn: never play ball in the house!"
Lincoln rolls his eyes, "Nope, but thanks anyway, Dad!"
Lynn and their dad head outside, and soon after, Leni and Rita return.
"Alright, Leni, you're improving! But be careful not to drift into… clown territory." Rita says, eyeing Lincoln who's still at work, "Sweetheart, I can help you with your volcano now!"
"Mom! You promised we'd take that magazine quiz!" Lori interjects, pulling Rita upstairs.
Rita glances back at Lincoln with an apologetic smile, "Oh, just five more minutes, honey!"
Lincoln waves her off, "It's all good, Mom. I got this!"
Just then, Lynn Sr. joins Lincoln, saxophone in hand, "Hey buddy, give me five more minutes and I'll help out! I promised Luna I'd help her jam a bit."
In the background, the toilet flushes.
"Dad! I clogged the toilet so you can teach me how to fix it!" Lana yells from upstairs.
"Five minutes, Lincoln! I mean, Lana!" Lynn Sr. shouts back, starting to play the saxophone, which sends Cliff into a frenzy, causing him to toss Lynn's baseball in panic, "Ow!"
Lincoln winces, hopping off his chair to help his dad, "Thanks for the offer, Dad, but…" He gestures to his volcano, "I'm already finished!"
Lincoln proudly reveals his volcano, depicting him and Delilah scaling its heights.
Lynn Sr. eyes it, impressed, "Wow! It's done? This is fantastic, son! I love how you even added people!"
"Yep! That's Delilah and me. We're climbing down to get married, and Rusty fell in." Lincoln explains with a grin.
Luna makes a face, "Ouch! That's gotta hurt! Fast work, baby bro. How'd you do all that so quickly?"
Lincoln beams, "It was easy! I just made a plan to tackle my project while hanging out with all of you!"
Luna ruffles Lincoln's hair, "That's my smart little dude!"
As Lynn Sr. looks at his two kids, a hint of worry crosses his face.
XXXXX
-Later Lynn Sr. and Rita are getting ready for bed in their bedroom-
Lynn Sr. frowned as he slipped into his comfy sleepwear, the kind that always seemed a little too snug. Rita was just about to turn in when she noticed his glum face. It only took her a minute to reach him, but he still jumped an inch when her hand landed on his shoulder.
"Hey there, penny for your thoughts?" Rita asked, teasingly.
He cracked a little smile, the corners of his mouth twitching up, "Well, these thoughts might be more like dollars than pennies, and I think they might be out of your price range!"
"Well, if we're bartering here, how about a discount if I trade in my worries about our daughters stealing time from Lincoln?" Rita shot back with a laugh as she pulled him to sit on the edge of their bed.
Lynn sighed, letting out a dramatic groan, "I don't know, how does it feel to be the mom who's not needed by her son?"
Rita whistled dramatically, "I'm not sure, but what's the going rate for worrying that our daughters are hogging all the time?"
Lynn pretended to be deep in thought, scratching his chin, "Hmm, that's a toughie. You might have to give me a little more info before I can give you a fair quote!"
"I can't argue with that logic!" Rita chuckled, wrapping her arms around him in a warm hug, "We really should carve out some time for Lincoln. Before we know it, he's gonna be grown up and out of the house, and we'll be left wondering where the years went."
"Exactly! Maybe I could get him to help me with cooking! That kid needs to know how to whip up a mean breakfast!" Lynn suggested, his enthusiasm coming back.
Rita nodded excitedly, "And I could read a book with him! I mean, he loves those comic books, so why not mix it up a little?"
Lynn hugged her back tightly, "Yeah, Lincoln is our little guy, and he could use some good ol' parent time."
Rita leaned in and kissed him, "Couldn't agree more, Team Loud!"
XXXXX
-The next day at Royal Woods Elementary-
Lincoln Loud stood in front of the bulletin board outside the gym on a warm spring day, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, trying to keep his cool in the chaotic sea of kids scrambling for the latest news. His white hair was as slick as always, and his orange polo shirt was firmly tucked into his jeans, keeping him looking sharp even amidst the chaos.
It was one of those mild spring afternoons when you could almost smell the excitement in the air. Lincoln stared at the board, brow furrowed in intense concentration. Kids were crowding around like a bunch of excited squirrels trying to grab a single acorn. Suddenly, someone bumped into him, and he tightened his jaw. "Great, just what I need—a game of bumper cars in the middle of school."
But then something jabbed him in the back, and he whipped around, ready to throw a punch like he was defending his life. It was Delilah, and her eyes were as wide as saucers. Lincoln immediately relaxed, "Whoa, sorry! I thought you were a bully or something."
Delilah looked confused, "Who?"
Lincoln just shrugged, "I dunno. Some jerk trying to ruin my day?"
Delilah tilted her head, a playful smirk on her lips, "Ayo, what's poppin' over there?" She tossed her chin toward the board, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.
"Oh, the club list!" Lincoln said, practically bouncing on his toes.
Delilah's eyes sparkled with excitement, "Yo, it dropped? That's lit!"
At the start of the semester, Principal Huggins had announced a dozen new after-school clubs. Lincoln was already in the chess club, but when he heard these new clubs could help pull up grades, he was all in. With English class being the bane of his existence, he could practically feel that big, red F looming over him like a storm cloud. "You killed me, dude! Now I'm coming for you!"
Joining one of those clubs was a no-brainer, but there was a catch: you didn't get to pick which one. You tossed your name into a hat, and whatever came out was your new club. Lincoln was on pins and needles waiting for this list. Rumors floated around that it was finally posted, and his heart practically leapt into his throat. He was crossing his fingers for art!
"I'm curious which one I snagged." Delilah said, craning her neck to take a look around. Her face lit up, "Art! That's the one I was hopin' for. What about you?"
Lincoln squinted at the board, "I don't see my name—"
Just then, someone shoulder-checked him out of the way, sending him bumping back into Delilah. He turned around to see Ronnie Anne there, arms crossed and scanning the board like she was trying to find a secret treasure.
"Yo, watch yourself, Ronnie!" Delilah said, giving him a playful shove with the heel of her palm.
Ronnie staggered to the side and shot Delilah a glare, "What's your deal, crane?"
She called her that ever since Delilah's growth spurt made her the tallest kid in class. Seriously, it was like Delilah was trying to compete with a skyscraper or something!
"You." Delilah said with a fierce glare, "You pushed my boyfriend out the way like a straight-up punk."
"Hey, Lincoln shouldn't just be hanging out here like it's a picnic!" Ronnie Anne said, giving Delilah a playful nudge on the shoulder.
"Ouch! Chill out!" Delilah exclaimed, rubbing her arm where that hit stung.
Oh, it was definitely on now.
Right before Delilah could make her move, Mr. Pacowski, the gym teacher, rolled by. He shot them a look that could fry eggs, but they just hit him with their biggest, sweetest smiles, "Ain't nothin' to see here, sir." He hesitated for a sec, but then shrugged like he had better things to do and kept it moving.
"Good going." Ronnie Anne said and turned back to the board, "You almost got us in trouble."
Delilah almost snapped back, but stopped herself. She could bicker with Ronnie later. Right now she wanted to find out which club Lincoln was in.
"Come on, Lucha Libre Club!" Ronnie Anne exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement, "You know I can't get enough of that Lucha Libre action!"
"I want art!" Lincoln declared, practically bouncing in his seat. He scoured the list for his name and finally spotted it just as Ronnie found hers.
They both gasped in disbelief.
"Cooking?" Lincoln exclaimed, his face scrunching up in disgust.
Yup, right there under the COOKING header.
Meanwhile, Ronnie's name was emblazoned in bold letters under LUCHA LIBRE.
With a big, cheeky grin, Ronnie leaped up and exclaimed, "Oh, you know it, baby!"
"Dang it!" Lincoln groaned, throwing his head back dramatically.
"I don't wanna cook!" he grumbled, slumping his shoulders, "Cooking's for losers!" He shot a glance at Delilah and added, "No offense."
Delilah laughed, "Ain't no worries! My big bro Johnny? Total loser!"
Lincoln let out a heavy sigh, feeling totally bummed about being stuck in Cooking class. Seriously, this was not how he pictured his school year going!
XXXXX
-Later at The Loud House-
After clearing the table and helping wash the dishes, Lincoln dashed upstairs, ready to tackle the next sibling showdown. He and his sisters were already bickering over who got to take a shower first. Of course, the battle continued as they squabbled over the prime spot at the sink for brushing their teeth, and even who had to set the alarm clock. Finally, in the darkness of his room, Lincoln plopped down on his bed, feeling wide awake and not really excited about tomorrow, "Ugh, I can't believe I have to go to Cooking Club." he muttered, glancing over at his trusty walkie-talkie.
It was a chill night at the Velazquest House when outta nowhere, Delilah was straight up yanked from her sleep by her walkie-talkie blasting like it was a fire alarm.
"WHAAAT?!" she yelled, jumping up on her bed with a wild look in her eyes.
"Slumberjack! Come in! It's Night Owl!" Lincoln's voice crackled through the device.
Delilah let out a big sigh and she opened her toy drawer like it was no big deal and snatched up her walkie-talkie, "For real, Lincoln? What's up?"
"Slumberjack! Do you read me?" Lincoln pressed on, unfazed.
"I'm here, Love Bug, what's good? Why'd you gotta wake me up like that?" Delilah asked, voice a little annoyed but playful.
"Sorry for bothering you at 1:00 AM, but I need help!" Lincoln exclaimed.
Delilah rolled her eyes, "Really? You couldn't hit me up at a decent hour?"
Lincoln sighed dramatically, "Look, I really need to get my act together for Cooking Club. Can you get Johnny to share some tips?"
Delilah rolled her eyes again and said, "Aight, whatever. I'll hit up my big bro. Lucky for you, he's like a kitchen wizard or something. Why don't you tag along with him for a day and see how it's really done?"
"Sweet! I'm on my way." Lincoln said, quickly tossing on his jacket and racing out the door, ready for his midnight mission.
"Yo, I'm feeling that energy, Love Bug, but it's like 1:00 AM right now! If you wake my big bro up, he's gonna mess you up with a wedgie, for real!" Delilah laughed, clearly amused by the thought.
Lincoln laughs, "Haha, yeah, I'll catch him when he's not in the mood to give me a wedgie! Thanks, Delly!"
"Catch some z's, Night Owl." Delilah joked, grinning as she flipped off the walkie-talkie and flopped back onto her pillow.
XXXXX
-Cuts to next morning in the Loud's kitchen. Lincoln had finished making fudge with Johnny-
Lincoln poured Johnny a glass of milk, grinning like a total goofball, "Thanks for your help, Johnny. You're a big help!"
"Eh, no biggie!" Johnny casually shrugged, his excitement palpable—like a kid on Christmas morning after finding the last slice of pizza, "Cooking is my jam! Like, I don't just sauté; I serenade those veggies!" He hoisted the plate of fudge like it was the Holy Grail—because let's be real, it probably is, "So, who's ready to have their taste buds throw a rave?!"
"I sure am! Go on, have a bite. It's gonna be great." Lincoln said, practically bouncing on his heels.
"Don't mind if I do!" Johnny exclaimed, popping a piece of fudge into his mouth like it was a superhero snack. But then—oh, the sweet mercilessness of fate—he spat it out like it was covered in a layer of chimichanga-induced regret! His hands flailed around like spaghetti noodles in a blender, trying to shake off those chocolate bits like they were enemy grenades. I mean, seriously, who knew fudge could have such a vendetta?
Lincoln grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. Geez, he didn't think it was that bad!
Johnny was gagging and wretching like he'd just chomped down on the world's worst sandwich—think nuclear waste with extra mustard. Johnny, bless his heart, bolted over to the sink faster than a kid on Halloween. He turned on the faucet like he was training for the Olympic guzzling team, neck contorted like a pretzel caught in a blender. Seriously, was he auditioning for a dramatic soap opera or something?
There's Johnny, leaning over the sink, panting like he just finished a marathon that required dodging landmines. He was shaking like a leaf in a tornado, which is only appropriate given the chaos that just unfolded in his mouth. "God Almighty, that was awful." he wheezed, sounding like a horror movie extra who just avoided the axe.
"I know it's not the best, but I tried, okay?" Lincoln said, genuinely feeling bad.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up a second!" Johnny exclaimed, throwing his hands up like he'd just seen a unicorn, "It needs evaporated milk, people! Seriously, it's like trying to fight crime without a cool suit! You just can't do it!"
Lincoln opened his mouth to defend his honor but then closed it. Uh-oh, he didn't use evaporated milk. Uh-oh.
Just then, Lynn Sr. strolled in to make soup for dinner while Johnny quickly whipped up another batch of fudge. Lincoln watched him like a hawk as he used nutmeg, cinnamon, pumpkin spice, and—wait for it—evaporated milk! This dude was a wizard in the kitchen! "You're really putting all that stuff in there?" Lincoln raised an eyebrow, trying to wrap his head around this wild concoction.
"I sure am! It's unconventional, but oh man, just wait until you taste what I've got cooking!" Johnny exclaimed, leaning over a mysterious unmarked container like it held the secrets of the universe, "Hey, could you pass me that salt? You know, for flavor enhancement and to keep my enemies at bay!"
Wait, did he just say salt? Ew!
Lincoln reluctantly handed it over, eyeing Johnny like he was about to summon Cthulhu. Johnny tossed in a pinch like a wizard casting a spell and slopped the whole pan down onto the stove, "Now we wait! It's like a cooking show where the main ingredient is my questionable life choices!"
Later, Johnny took the pan out and plopped it on the counter. After fifteen grueling minutes of waiting, he cut a square, and Lincoln was up to bat.
Oh.
My.
God.
It was totally delicious!
Lincoln couldn't believe his taste buds. It was like fireworks exploded in his brain! Seriously, he felt like a rocket blasting off, smashing through the ceiling! When he finally came down from that high, he was practically in tears. "That was amazing!" he said, voice low with joy. Who knew cooking could be like this? It was a flavor explosion!
"It's my own recipe, baby!" Johnny declared with a flair, because when it comes to cooking and baking, passion is like my secret sauce—extra spicy! Who needs a chef hat when you've got this level of deliciousness? Just call me the culinary superhero, saving taste buds one dish at a time! Bam!
Lynn Sr. pounded his fist against his chest, a grin breaking across his face, "Cooking and baking? They're my jam! When I was a kid, I felt lost, always in my big brother's shadow. Dad had me on the football field, but let's be honest, I couldn't catch a ball to save my life! I was scrambling to find my passion, and then my amazing teacher, Ms. Scalise, nudged me into the kitchen." He stood taller, filled with energy, looking every bit the hero of his own story—like George Washington crossing the Delaware. The boys couldn't help but feel a surge of pride.
"Wait, Dad, I'm in a cooking class too!" Lincoln chimed in, eyes wide.
"Cooking is so awesome!" Johnny added, nodding enthusiastically.
But then Mr. Loud's smile faded for a moment, replaced by a bittersweet expression, "I've always wanted to share my love of cooking with my son. When I see moments like this, it really hits me right here," he said, placing a hand on his heart, trying to fight back the emotions. A few sniffles escaped, and he held up a crumpled piece of paper. Johnny quickly grabbed it from him, eyes scanning for whatever gems of culinary wisdom might be hidden inside.
FATHER + SON COMPETITION
Would you and your son like to be on Food Network's hit cooking competition "Chopped"? Special father/son tapings are happening soon. 10,000 dollar cash prize for the winner. Sign up now!
Johnny's jaw crashed to the floor like it was auditioning for a role in a rubber band ball, "Dude, Chopped is like my Star Wars—except with fewer lightsabers and more diced vegetables!" He swaggered over to Mr. Loud, who was busy shedding enough tears to hydrate a small garden, "We totally need to sign up for this culinary showdown—like, yesterday!"
But then, he caught a glimpse of Lincoln. The kid was beaming brighter than a supernova, though Johnny could sense the inner conflict—like a Jedi torn between the Dark Side and a pizza party, "Wait, hold up! I've got a genius idea! How about you and Lincoln team up like Batman and Robin—but with aprons instead of capes? You guys are destined for kitchen fame!"
In a flash, Mr. Loud's tears vanished, and he began bouncing around like a kid at a candy store. His infectious joy lit a fire in Johnny's heart.
Lincoln suddenly realized he was going to be on freaking TV, so he couldn't help but join in the excitement, jumping up and down alongside Mr. Loud. They locked hands and started chanting, "Chopped! Chopped! Chopped! Chopped!" with all the enthusiasm they could muster.
Just then, Lori strolled in and opened her mouth as if she was about to chime in, but then she saw them. Without missing a beat, she turned and walked back out, leaving them in their bubble of happiness.
That night, Mr. Loud signed them up, and just a week later, they got the call for a tryout in Detroit.
The tryout took place in a warehouse near the Detroit River, where you could practically see Canada from the window. Three kitchen setups lined up, and they had one hour to whip up their best dish. Lincoln took a page out of Johnny's playbook, preparing his famous braised chicken with walnuts and a raspberry reduction, while Mr. Loud crafted a fresh arugula salad dressed with homemade balsamic vinaigrette. They'd been honing their "kitchen chemistry," working together like a well-oiled machine. Some folks can zone out while they mow the lawn or jog on a treadmill; Lincoln and Mr. Loud could tap into that zone in the kitchen. It was all instinct for them.
A panel of judges, none of whom Lincoln recognized from TV, tried their dish, and each one praised it like it was the best thing they'd ever tasted. Mr. Loud held out his hand with a triumphant grin, and Lincoln slapped it. Oh yeah, this win was practically in the bag.
"We'll call you." one of the judges assured them.
Lincoln and Mr. Loud waited with bated breath for a month. Christmas came and went in a blur, his excitement building until one day in late January, his dad burst into his room. "WE GOT ON THE SHOW!"
"BOO-YAH!" Lincoln yelled, thrusting his fist into the air. He was perched on his bed, ready to start cooking with his dad, "I'm going on Chopped!" He leaped to his feet and broke into a wild victory dance that would make anyone proud.
In early February, enduring the cold of the Michigan winter, Lincoln and Mr. Loud squeezed into Vanzilla for the drive to Detroit, where the taping was set to happen. The previous week saw heaps of snow, leaving a thick, chilly coating on the ground. "This is going to be awesome!" Lincoln exclaimed from the passenger seat. "We're going to win it for sure!"
"I know!" Mr. Loud replied with a burst of excitement. "And this will show my dad!"
With a flourish, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number, "Hey, Dad? What's up? I'm doing great, just on my way to… a TV taping!" He dragged out the last part with a touch of drama, wearing a proud smirk. It was clear he loved bragging a little. "Yeah, heading to the Food Network. I might even get my own show! Does Lance have his own show? Do millions of people enjoy his Endure Lance Gym gym chain? Oh, I gotta run, my limo's here. Caio!"
"Dad, did you really just lie and throw some shade at your dad?" Lincoln asked, shaking his head, "That's... kind of messed up."
Mr. Loud waved him off with an amused grin.
Two hours later, they joined three other father-son pairs on the set of Chopped. A full pantry occupied one wall and four kitchen set ups faced the judges. Lynn Sr. recognized all of them and resolved to get their autographs after he and Lincoln won: There was Alex Guarnaschelli. Amanda Freitag. Chris Santos, and Geoffrey Zakarian. You couldn't ask for a better line up. Ted Allen, the host, came out, and Lynn Sr. swooned. Man, this was actually happening.
Each of the four pairs was given a basket with four ingredients inside. Soy sauce, a cooked rotisserie chicken, baby carrots, and honey, "You have one hour to prepare your best dish." Ted said, "Or you will be...chopped."
Lincoln's mind was racing faster than a speeding skateboard. Out of nowhere, he shouted, "I've got it! Glazed chicken stir fry!" Mr. Loud raised an eyebrow and nodded, "Right. Good one, Lincoln."
As Mr. Loud got the chicken sizzling, Lincoln dashed over to the pantry like he was on a mission. He grabbed a bunch of ingredients—apples, walnuts, arugula, and watercress—like a food tornado! "Check it out, everyone! I'm making an apple-walnut stir fry!" he announced to the camera, excitement bubbling up inside him. "It's gonna be epic! Chris is gonna freak when he tastes this!"
Just as he turned to zoom back to the kitchen, he almost crashed into one of the cameramen. "Whoops! Dude, you gotta move!"
Mr. Loud hurriedly whisked a honey soy sauce reduction together while Lincoln sliced the apples into little wedges, being careful so that each piece was thin and light and matched all the others. Here on Chopped, presentation mattered, and if your dish didn't look like something someone would pay 500 dollars for, you'd wind up out on your ear.
Across the kitchen, one of the other contestants, a fat boy about Lincoln's age, dropped a metal bowl to the ground with a long clang. Soy sauce exploded across the floor in a sloppy sun pattern. "Sugar honey iced tea," he said with an exaggerated sigh. A black man named Tommy with a single tuft of hair on his otherwise bald head cut himself with a knife and bled all over his food. Normally, Lincoln would feel for the guy, but not in the middle of a competition. Lincoln was in it to win it and the only thing he cared about was winning.
And a good way to win was to psyche out the competition, "This guy's over here chopping himself." Lincoln said.
The judges laughed, and Bill's face turned red with embarrassment.
"You know Bill...he's a cut above the rest."
Even Bill's son laughed this time.
A stagehand bandaged Bill's finger, and he was forced to throw out all but a few thin slices of chicken. Hahahaha. There was no way Lincoln and Mr. Loud could lose now.
Lincoln was so busy gloating over his foe's demise that he didn't realize his stir fry was burning until the stench of charred apples found his nose. His heart dropped and he rushed over to the stove.
RUINED! It was all ruined!
"Noooo." Lincoln yelled. Panicking, he grabbed it off the stove and ran it to the sink. His foot kicked a light cable stretched out across the floor and lost his balance. He fell and the skillet flew out of his hand. He watched it sail through the air with growing horror. It landed in the middle of the judges' table and went off like a bomb, splattering each one with hot grease and molten, black Zakarian fell back, screaming, and Chris Santos's hair erupted in flames. Alex took a face full of grease and screeched in agony, and Amanda opened her mouth to wail, and a smoking piece of carrot went down her gullet. The judges lay on the ground, groaning and quivering, and Lincoln gaped.
Bill gave a booming laugh, "Who chopped himself now?"
Lincoln gulped.
Three hours later, after emergency room visits, Lincoln and Mr. Loud stood before the glaring judges. Each one was heavily bandaged and reminded Lincoln of mummies. Lincoln could feel their hot glares on him and nervously rubbed the back of his neck.
"This dish is awful." Geoffery said. "The chicken was mushy, the watercress was dry, and the walnuts tasted like rocks."
"I agree." Alex said, "I've had awful food in my life, but this takes the cake."
Lincoln fidgeted, "Uh...you guys didn't even try it."
"I did." Amanda said, "And they're right. You're chopped."
A team of burly security guards appeared and dragged Lincoln and Mr. Loud away, throwing them out of the building. They sat together in the snow and cold and nursed their broken dreams, "I'm sorry I got us chopped, dad." Lincoln said.
Mr. Loud chuckled heartily, "You know what, buddy? It's all good! We might not have snagged the win, but we had a blast, and that's what cooking is really about. It's not just about whipping up the fanciest dish; it's about enjoying the process and making memories!"
He patted Lincoln on the back, "I just wanted to share my passion for cooking with you. We should definitely do this again sometime!"
Lincoln beamed, "That'd be awesome, Dad!"
From that day forward, Lincoln and Lynn Sr. were F&SCBF.
Father and Son Cooking Buddies Forever
The End.